Loose on the Palouse

It was in 2008 that I made the important move from high school to college. I applied to a lot of small private universities with the hope my good, if not stellar, grades from a well-respected school would allow me to go just about anywhere.

I applied to the highly regarded Reed College and Whitman University here in the Pacific Northwest.

I also fooled around with the idea of becoming a screenwriter and applied to Chapman University and Loyola Marymount University in SoCal, which have good film schools.

I considered an application for Stanford, too, but decided not to in the end (sorry, Mom). But I did apply to a few schools with the UC system.

And then, just because they had an application due date later than any other school I'd looked at, I applied to Washington State University as well. I'd heard about their respected journalism program, which was another field that piqued my interest. But WSU was little more than an emergency backup option. My biggest hope at the time was to return to the promised land of California - I was done with Washington ... or so I thought.

(It was during all this that the infamous name debacle took place.)

Unfortunately, my (or really my mother's) expectations were mostly dashed. Out of eight schools I applied to, only two accepted me: Loyola and WSU.

It was either study film or study journalism. Enjoy the California sun or the winters of the Palouse. Live in glitzy Los Angeles or someplace called Pullman.

Spend $42,000 on tuition per year or $24,000.

I went with the latter choice.

Tuition was the most important factor; my family's finances weren't getting any better. However, the realization that attending Loyola would mean having to live, work, and study in LA on a daily basis was another contributing factor. The San Franciscan in me just couldn't allow that to happen.

So Pullman it was.

Pullman. Farm country. The smallest town I've ever lived in. Where people wear cowboy hats and boots un-ironically. Nestled right up against the border of Idaho of all places! Idaho! Yeah, the state of meth-heads, neo-Nazis, and potato farmers. This is where I spent four formative years of my life.

First impressions weren't the greatest. I visited it months ahead of time to get a feel for the place and, despite being a perfectly sunny day in April, it was snowing. Snowing without clouds! In April! Then, when the big day came and I arrived to officially move-in, a dust storm hit. An honest to God dust storm, like out of the pages of The Grapes of Wrath! (Coincidentally, check out my list of my favorite novels if you haven't yet. *Cheap plug*)

Home sickness naturally took over after a few weeks. One of the first things I found myself missing was not my family, not my friends, not even my pets. It was saltwater. Pullman is the furthest I've lived from a large body of saltwater. I started to miss the feeling of a cool sea breeze on my face and the smell and taste of the sea that accompanies it.

This home sickness led me to do crazy things like make new friends, open a Facebook account, and root for the Cougar football team (if you're a young football fan looking for a university to attend, stay away from WSU. The team stinks, but the fans are worse. God, I hate Cougar fans!).

But it wasn't all bad (or why else would I have stayed?). English 101 led me to sit directly in-between two people who would become arguably my best friends at college. I got to have my own room for most of second semester after my roommate (a red-headed giant of a man who played rugby - we weren't exactly compatible roommates, but generally got along. Though one night he brought a lady friend home with him for some "alone time" without telling me) moved out and I never got a replacement.

And then there were the adventures of the Stephenson North 9th Floor crew. As soon as I can figure out a way to accurately portray how crazy my floormates were without risking possible criminal charges being filed, I'll have a blog post about them. Not at all people I'd usually associate with, but for my first year at college they helped me forget my home sickness and made things fun.

The rest of my time at WSU can more or less be summed up the same way: it wasn't all bad. It certainly wasn't all good either.

For every friend I made, there were friends lost as well. For every two or three classes I truly enjoyed and learned things in, there were duds where I've already forgotten what I learned. There was the thrill of my new major and all its accompanying knowledge and skills to be learned, followed by the slow realization I may have picked the wrong thing for me. For every triumph at college, there was tragedy back at home. For every bit of praise I garnered, there was someone talking behind my back.

But college is like life that way. It's a bumpy road full of highs and lows. That's what college is ultimately supposed to be about, they say - to prepare you for "the real world;" for being a grown-up. While I sometimes doubt whether I'm ready or not for this "real world," I still feel confident I made the right choice in attending WSU.

WSU certainly gave me some interesting stories to tell - ones I hope to share with all of you going forward. It allowed me to learn new things about myself. And it certainly introduced me to a variety of new people, some of whom I'm proud to call good friends.

And I got a pretty neat girlfriend out of the whole ordeal, too!

Go Cougs!